I'm taking a 10 minutes break, sitting down with half a litre of water and getting ready for the next phase: The Weekend. It pains me to be sitting down, because I just escaped from work where I spent the last 8 hours doing just that. But it's also a metaphorical sitting down that I'm doing right here, right now. (Sitting will kill us all).
This morning I got up and walked to the gym literally before the break of dawn. I was walking Northward down a hill and I was walking towards a storm. It was dramatic already, but then the street lights were out. And then the traffic lights were out. And as my gym hove into view, I could see a small crowd of women and no lights, and I knew that the gym was out as well. I said hello and goodbye to the lady who works at the gym, hiked back up the hill home, and promised myself I would make it up this afternoon.
I went to work and ate sugary snacks (all free, all gifts) all day. And my ankle was still hurting, which it's been doing since Sunday.
I've worked out 7 days in a row, and run 27 miles, and (since Matthew was gone) eaten immoderately. My pants don't fit very well.
Matthew got home late last night. Not only am I going to take the afternoon off gym, but also take tomorrow and the next day off. I have to stop thinking of the gym as a place where I can slough off my cakes and chocolate, and I have to look after this poor little ankle. Matthew and I might go for a jog together on Sunday morning. Or we might not.
Cheers to taking time out from normal routines. Cheers to the weekend.